


In The Shadows

by ExistentialMalaises



Series: Prompts and Themes [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Angst, Cyberpunk, Existentialism, F/M, Gen, M/M, Nihilism, Retelling of The Winter Soldier's Story, Twisting and weaving canon together, noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-04-24 06:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14349708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExistentialMalaises/pseuds/ExistentialMalaises
Summary: “In the blink of an eye, the world had changed.”—Cyberpunk AUcentering The Winter Soldier.





	1. Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble turned into a story, written as a part of a series of prompts that focus on literary genres and (fanfiction) tropes. This story includes the following motifs: 'cyberpunk' and 'insomnia'. I'm pleased with it. I hope you are too!
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy the read._

Hours of darkness were endemic in this borderland. Black markets, dubious transactions, arcades swarming with riffraff and undesirables, all vaguely obscured by the vivid fluorescent hues of blue and purple that bounced off looming constructions. 

In the blink of an eye, the world had changed. He had plummeted from the speeding train to the cutting, frozen ground. The first time he had fluttered his eyes open, someone was pulling him by the collar of his navy blue jacket, a crimson red streak besmearing the white blanket of snow. His body should not have been able to sustain the collision. Yet all he visibly had lost was his arm, not his life. That was the first indication that something was not right anymore. The second time his eyelids had flickered open, a sharp hissing sound came from where his arm was missing, and he caught a glimpse of a dark machine before he was surrounded by darkness once more. A blink of an eye, and when he had opened his for a third time, he was a new man.

If he still counted as one.

There was a silver-gray replacement where not too long ago was an arm. A cybernetic limb, united with his body and mind. But that was not all that was… different. He had survived. The first indication. The gleam of a gunmetal monitor transmitted a steady beep. They had violated his mind, penetrated the biological systems within, and twisted the wires to synchronize with their purpose. It made him more resistant to physical injury. Pain was endurable. Damaged tissue regenerated faster. It explained his survival. The steady beep from the monitor spiked, growing erratic. They had mutilated his body. A left arm that could maim and kill, effortlessly, with a single blow, had inconceivable and inhuman sensors, and was unaffected by bladed and explosive weapons. Yet he was controlled, kept on a short leash, like the mongrel they had turned him into.

A prison of flesh and metal.

A field of restricted memories and data.

Every nightfall the expanse swallowed all its inhabitants whole into its emerging dusk, the evenings starless from all the smog, no matter how high the buildings. The buzz of man and machine carried through the neon-scattered streets, the apartments small, but their greed massive. Clamorous bars, surgical stalls, and hustlers on every corner, selling whatever someone was willing to pay for. He stuck to whiskey, neat, the strongest his dirtied money was able to buy, to make him forget in which direction his leash was pulled, and to bring him closer to sleep, something that had become as unrealistic as his former life.

He found his usual bar, he ordered his poison, and he watched the night turn into day with the swarms of mindless drones who entered and departed with their eyes glued to the small devices in their hands. Plugged in at all times. A slave to a matrix, a network of information and desires, that deprived them of any real connection. Who needed human correspondence when their digital fix was a click away in this urban axis?

After his bender, he plodded back to his empty apartment, void of color and feeling, only dull surfaces, and he plummeted into his barren bed, hopefully close enough to mechanical to fall asleep, and get his fix of humanity in his dreams.

But sleep never came and his mind could no longer be trusted, for it was not completely his own. Regulated, with their tinkering, he was haunted by flashes of familiar impressions, and it made him more unhinged. Verdant woodland. The land was different then. Ten unflinching men. A small yellow wing. Berets and bowler hats. Red, white, and blue. Groomed golden hair, consistently parted to one side. The whiskey from last night had not been strong enough. He wanted more than anything to remember, but the duality of  _what_  he was… Perhaps it was better to forget.

The more he shut out, the easier it was to subsist.

He cleaned himself, and threw on his long, leather jacket, then took to the streets. Swarming. Buzzing. A hive of man and machine. In a way, he was not that distinct from the inhabitants of this borderland that he distanced himself from.

A nation of slaves, kept vacuous and compliant. The electronic devices were the trigger, and every morning the mindless drones willingly loaded their gun, like anesthetized sheep no longer aware of the pain when they swallowed the bullet of dissipation, straight to the pit of their hollow shell. With every swift tap on the blue screens, and every slide of their strained fingers, their minds gradually drifted off as it revolved around technology. Their declining world full of fumes of industrial combustion grew out of focus, dimming in the background until there was only them, the blue screens, and their virtual world of information and unfulfilled desires.

Was he any different?

He, too, took his bullet every day.

Unlike them, he felt the excavation.

A new bullet. A new target. A small group of armed insurgent forces were prospering in the outskirts of the commercialized city. They meant to destabilize the power of the thriving corporations, and return this land to its former glory. Was there such a thing? Their influence was showing in the inner sectors, and it was his responsibility to cut off the head of the snake. Send a message. He would stomach it. He always had.

The head of this particular snake came with a black eyepatch. Straightforward enough to detect on sight alone once he reached the most remote area of the borderland, only fields of wreckage and waste behind it. The group was bigger than he was told, so the long range was his best bet. With a soft sigh, he sprawled out on a concrete peak, veiled in the shadows against the dark blue of the neon lights, and searched for his target through the scope of his sniper rifle. It required patience and restraint, but he found him. He always found them. The jet-black tactical uniform the target donned suggested a military background, another institution that had succumbed to the rise of the corporations. He let out another breath in concentration, preparing to fire, when the muzzle of a handgun pressed against the back of his head. Stopping dead in his tracks, he withdrew his finger from the trigger and glanced to the side.

A woman, with hair and lips as red as ruby, curved over him, pushing the gun harder on his skull. By some means, she had managed to slink near him without coming to his notice. She let him straighten up, and he rose his arms while she took a few steps back. The gun in her hand pointed steadily at him, no hesitation, and he calculated how many bullets he’d be able to ward off before he’d get close enough to incapacitate her, when she revealed a second handgun.

“Move,” she said, her voice hardened and cool, as affected as he was by the inhospitable grounds they had to abide in.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated. You can also find me on [Tumblr](https://existentialmalaises.tumblr.com/).  
> 


	2. Candle

The slender woman, nimble on her feet, no rustling of grass underneath them, had deprived him of his weapons and escorted him with the direction of her guns into a resilient dome. Whereabouts unknown. The area was gleaming with intense blue-purple kaleidoscopic beams, compressed from within by the oppressive rounded vault, but its light never faltering.

Arms tethered, he came face to face with the man with the eyepatch, encircled by leather-clad combatants. Predominantly women with braided hair and hard faces, some with enhanced artificial body parts, and some with augmented weapons. The former a sign of the sacrifice of warfare, the latter a promise of more to come.

His target spoke. Loud, his voice carrying through the room for everyone to hear. No-nonsense. Almost like a performance. The man already seemed to understand who he was, and what he was tasked with.

It was unexpected, since he knew nothing of the man other than what he was briefed about. Minimum information to ensure a detached rendition. And he executed them all. A man made machine, with the right set of skills, enhanced and manufactured to annihilate.

Their most effective weapon.

But he existed and lived in the shadows, even within the corporation. Then how did this man know about him? He listened attentively as he scanned the dome for weak links. Exit points. Unguarded tools. Debilitated fighters. The details mattered, even the most trivial ones, those usually concealed the most significant tenors of mankind. Someone had taught him that. Someone vaguely familiar. Details meant information, and if he managed to get a hold of a bigger shield, like the one behind another redheaded woman, this one younger, he could get out of here alive, unstoppable even in a flood of bullets.

The image of a circular shield, covered with hoops of that damn red, white, and blue, flashed before his eyes. A white star. He had seen that before. The man with the blonde hair. The masked man. Why did he still have flashes of a former life? As if he had uttered it out loud, his target addressed what went through his mind. The creation of super soldiers. Electronic innovation. Biological deviation. An enhanced human through the insertion of an amber-colored serum came first, but like him no one could follow. Androids were too easily destroyed, able to simulate fundamental skills sought in only foot soldiers. Followers, not leaders. More drastic endeavors were explored, genetic engineering, machine incorporating into man.

What they turned him into.

An amalgamation. An aberration.

“You can change that,” the man with the eyepatch said, and that stopped him from scanning the dome and calculating his next moves. “Fight the suppression, like you’ve done before.”

Before? His target led him away from the group, the woman who had detained him followed them, and divulged more about himself. He was not just a man with a military background. He had been involved in the making of weapons too, just not of the human variety. His leadership had made him privy to classified data about the history of super soldiers and hybrid sleeper cells. He had been in control. He still was. Now at the head of a prospering group of armed insurgent forces, far greater than was known. And he used his followers to fulfill his means, in violent ways, all for a supposed better world. How was he any better than the corporations in power?

The information from his target made him apprehensive, but it wasn’t enough to sway his mind. The strands of knowledge of the borderland unraveled, more questions entering his mind with every new piece of intelligence he gathered.

“This is _who_ you are,” the man said, and a black-and-white hologram beamed from his electronic device, the absence of apparatuses not undiscerned within the dome.

It was a recording of two men. The groomed hair, consistently parted to one side. And someone who resembled the man he saw in the mirror, but with a solid core. Grins and smiles, from ear to ear, on both their faces. There was a twist in the pit of his stomach, an ache he hadn’t felt before, yet vaguely familiar. If they wanted a super soldier to govern and restrain, why didn’t they erase all of his memories?

His target accounted for that too. He had an answer for everything. At first, they thought mankind was easier to control when it was a blank canvas to condition and shape to fit their goals. There had been others like him. More enhanced weapons of mass destruction, but without a sliver of humanity, with no remnants of compassion or conscience, their minds disintegrated faster.

A candle could not burn without its wick.

Neither could a man live without a sense of self.

The recollections were there to serve a purpose, to make him a more potent tool. Were those flashes even real, or were they just as fabricated as the virtual matrix of information and desires that kept the mindless drones vacuous and compliant? Distorted perceptions, and thoughts of deception. It made it harder for him to distinguish fact from fiction. Memories that haunted him. The masked man from his dreams…

“Who was he?”

 

 


	3. Ruby Red

A former life, narrated by strangers. A tale of a man, living up to his potential, fighting the good fight, alongside his best friend, his most loyal companion. There was more, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. And eight other unflinching men who put their lives on the line to pay the price of freedom for the many. The man with the eyepatch had spun a heroic history, but none of the insurgents were part of it, and he still failed to remember.

That did not mean he didn’t want to regard it as true.

But he had been an instrument to others for too long, and it seemed like simply switching places. Not gaining freedom. He’d still operate from within the shadows, he’d still commit disastrous acts, he’d still swallow that bullet. Would it change anything?

“The power of choice,” the woman with the ruby-red lips spoke after his target left, her arms crossing in front of her, drawing his attention down her fitted catsuit. Elbow and knee pads. Belt buckle and leather side panels that carried her handguns and ammunition. A zipped neckline that raised further inspection, which he ignored. The power of choice was something, but then maybe he’d choose to walk away from it all. And yet… that tale of a man, living up to his potential.

A seed had been planted.

Maybe he could be more man than machine. If those memories, instilled or not, if that heroic tale, fictional or not, made up who he was, formed his consciousness, then his choice did matter. Even if it all was simulation, an inserted fabrication, it was part of his reality. Fact or fiction. It wasn’t freedom, he would still be trapped within his boundaries, but he’d no longer be serving those who turned him into a shadow of a man.

Maybe through choice, he could become someone else, someone better.

With the guidance of her nimble feet, something that still astonished him, she took him through asplintered colonnade, the cracks glistening against the long reach of the blue neon lights, and into a different monumental construction until they entered an unoccupied room. There was a table and two chairs, a sizable bed on the other side, and a door that might lead to basic amenities. He glanced down his uniform, the compressed dirt and flakes of rubble still clinging to some parts of it.

She shut the door behind them as he took off his leather jacket, then scrutinized him through her darkened lashes. He threw the jacket over one of the chairs, and ran a hand through his hair. It had been a long time since he had a woman in a bedroom, and the changed setting meant he stopped ignoring certain facets of her appearance. The way her slender figure moved when she took her nimble steps: shoulders pulled back, arms swaying back and forth gracefully, and hips swiveling from side-to-side.

She came to a halt in front of him, her arms disappearing behind her back, her legs wide, her eyes still scrutinizing him. “There’s no running from this. Not in our lifetime. Even your extended one,” she said, her words less harsh this time. She even offered a small smile at her final words.

How could she ever understand that?

She anticipated the question, and spun him another convincing tale, not very different from the man she followed. The creation of another kind of assassin, venomous spiders who would eat their mate after breeding. Seduction and destruction. He listened without interrupting, wondering if he would find inconsistencies, something to tell him to back off.

Stop the seed from sprouting.

But it didn’t. Her tale, if true, was a sad one. A childhood lost, innocence taken away, another instrument to be used as pleased. This city, and even outside of it, was full of suffering. He had seen it. He had endured it. He had exerted it. And, now, they were asking him to help stop it.

“I chose to learn from my past,” she said steadily, when he asked for more, needing to understand, trying to make up his own mind when everything was uncertain. “You can too. You can choose to move forward, or remain immovable. Run from your fears. You can, but you won’t find solace there.”

“And I will if I help your cause?”

“Mankind freed? That should bring solace to us all.” She took another nimble step, then another, her unpolished nails skimming over the coffee table between them. “We can stop the infection from spreading. Together.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t…” His eyes lowered to her lips when she stood in front of him, and her fingers found her zipped neckline, then at an unhurried pace revealed what he had wanted to examine. “I just recognize a wounded soul when I see one. You’re like a reflection in a shattered mirror.”

“And you want to cure me?”

“No… just put you to sleep.” Her soft-spoken words were lost in his mouth, a slow vibration that she carried with her trembled on his bottom lip. A soft sigh when they deepened their kiss, and he felt the wet slide of her tongue, touching him like she knew every part of him. She was sweet, vulnerable even. Nothing like the armed woman he had met on the peak of the building, ready to blow his brains out, if he had made the wrong move.

Seduction and destruction.

Was that what was happening here too? He hoisted her in his arms, her legs enveloping his waist immediately, her hold on him tight and warm, and he strolled to the sizable bed. He’d have to ensure that the second act would have a happy ending too.

 

 


	4. Hologram

His communication device was destroyed before he had even met his target. The chip that was implanted underneath his skin was surgically removed. A precaution, so his location could not be traced, even if the expanse blocked all forms of radio wave transmissions. And a week had almost passed since he had set foot on insurgent soil. Now, he was one of them.

He gave them whatever intel he had on the corporations. Their webs of information and reach within the inner city more extensive than he could have imagined. And after another week passed, he finally strolled through the dark cracks of the streets once more, venturing deeper inside, closer to the headquarters where he’d go for briefings. The woman was with him, an effective partner. Brutally efficient, and dangerously skilled. True to her word, too, she had rid him of his insomnia. Together they would gather whatever intel they could of the changed situation, the corporations without its man in the shadows, and relay it to the man with the eyepatch, so they could plan their attack.

The walkways were thronging with flocks of mindless drones, all too focused on the blue screen between their hands, inside the glass of their glasses, or on another portable device. Too focused on themselves, and not aware of their surroundings. It was why he preferred the cracks. There he was as unseen as he felt.

They turned the corner, where a colossal hologram was broadcasted on one of the towering buildings on the other side of the street. It was the man from the recording. The man from his dreams. The one that haunted him in his memories.

“Want a better future?! I'm here to serve it. If I'm a captain, then I'm a soldier. And you can be too! Join the corporations. Together, we will redefine the dream and make it our reality again,” the hologram said, then arched over, nearing his side of the street, nearing him.

And his heart was in his throat. 

An invisible force catapulted him deeper into the shadow of the street. The back of his head hit the wall and he descended into chaos. His eyelids shut tight, and his lashes vibrated with a rapidly increasing frequency, tightening, eyes darting everywhere underneath.

No more flashes of images, but a complete picture.

It all came back to him. Brooklyn. His parents. His sister. His best pal… turned in a symbol. An idea to others, but to him just the same. War compatriots. Survivors. It was all genuine. Fact. Not fiction. A fall into icy grounds. A cybernetic arm. The faces of his victims. Men. Women. Children. So many of them, and no one was spared. He swallowed his bullet everyday, slowly scooping out his soul like they had done with his memory. Only a sliver left. And that sliver of humanity he found in the masked man.

The groomed golden hair, consistently parted to one side…

Unless his fingers had curled around his thick locks, holding on to him, as their lips brushed. 

It all came back to him. The hard battles and all the sacrifices. But also all the grins and smirks, the longing glances, the unspoken reassurance of affection, the veiled kisses, and the nocturnal explorations.

He panted, his hands fisted, his chest heaving, then opened his eyes… The glaring hues of blue and purple bathed his vision, so he turned around. She was scrutinizing him again, a certain sadness growing more visible in her emerald-green eyes.

“You remember him?”

“I do. I remember,” he said, slowing down his breathing, and she nodded her head, her gaze averting his. A pang of guilt shot through his chest, and he seized her small hand between his gloved ones. “I remember you too, Natalia.”

A slow simper, a hard swallow, and the sadness he had seen in her eyes was now replaced with conviction. He pulled her into his arms, her soft lips pressing on his, tight and warm, deeper into the cracks of darkness as memories of distinct kisses mingled in his mind.

“I’m sorry I disappeared. Again,” he said, slightly out of breath when she was finally ready to release her hold on him.

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“It was. You have to keep going through the same process. It isn’t fair. Everything that has happ—”

“Shh.” She pecked his lips soothingly. “I won’t let them take you again.”

“I, uhh…” He turned his head and Natalia followed his gaze. The looming hologram of his best pal not having left his mind. It made him sick to his stomach.

Fear… in an open source network, an ongoing infrastructure with input and output, an online cloud, connecting millions of mindless drones… was the root of all evil. A poison that slithered deep inside a network of arteries, en route to the heart, streams of crimson flowing in and out, then the poison enveloped, the organic substance blackening and stripping away all the red, only wreckage left in its wake. Another instrument, used and abused by corporations in power, to further their gain. And, now, with everyone plugged in it at all times, the digital forces porous, fear rendered liberty and hope obsolete.

Trap the mindless drones in their fears, create cravings and offer solutions to appease their restless minds. Anything they need, manipulated and developed, so that with the a tap on the blue screens, they believed they were free and safe.

The greatest illusion yet.

And now they used him too. A symbol of hope and heroism perverted. History was rewritten by those in power to fit in their narrative. The victors ruled, and the masses suffered, but they didn’t even know it. It was all a myth. Indoctrinated men and women would fall for this, would join, and would be willing to die.What once was necessary had been twisted and corrupted.

He could not let that happen.

This was not what they had died for.

And he wouldn’t let it be what he was brought back for.

“We need to end this. _Now_.”

 

 


	5. Sleep

The wedge back vent of his leather jacket flapped furiously as he rushed through the crowded rain-slicked streets of the city, abruptly jumping to the left and swirling to the right to steer clear of its inhabitants, only one destination in mind. Headquarters. His head was spinning. Anger clouding his judgement. Stop. Focus. A change of plans, but one that he was not walking away from. They had used the shield, the man, and everything they stood for to further their gains. It was the end of the line. Now was as good a time as any.

“Don’t rush into this, James.” Her voice came from behind him, and he turned his head her way. She was quickly approaching him, her face cleared of emotion. She was always better at that than him. She was at most things. “The hologram is not really him. He died in battle when the corporations took over. We buried him. You remember that, don’t you?”

“I remember, but I can’t keep doing this. Not anymore.” She was right. It was more than likely that the corporations used that hologram in public to lure him back. Trigger his memories and ignite his rage. A manipulative ploy. It had worked. He was coming for them. Their most valuable asset. The one who hadn’t burned out yet. He’d tear that place down to the ground. “Are you with me?”

“You know I am. Already called for backup.”

He entwined their fingers, gave her a small smile, and pulled her along, the massive crowd now steering clear of them. “You always amaze me.”

When they reached the erected construction of metal and stone, monstrous in size, their steps slowed down. Slinking through a side street, they found a backdoor. The summit of the building dissolved into the gray fumes of chemical pollutants, and without raising too much suspicion and sound… they immobilized the mostly android foot soldiers that they came across as they worked the levels, going higher and higher to find those responsible.

He had never seen the inside of the building from this angle, as an intruder. It was alive, full of people. Nothing like the mindless drones he saw on the streets, but conscious human beings actively _choosing_ to be part of this evil. Before, his path had directly led to the rooms where he was reconditioned and briefed. He had seen only empty, glaring hallways, the white light tubes blinding his sight. There had only been a lab coat or a suit telling him what was expected of him.

Information and extermination. 

The former was the universal code that the powerful spoke fluently and used to control others, subsuming language, money, and genetics. Portable devices with access to unlimited networks. Constant monitoring of public and private lives. Databases of personal information in the hands of corporations, not for safety, but for profit. The poor dwelling on the street, getting their fix, because artificial hands worked faster than human ones. Addiction and mental illness growing while the rich showcased their perfect existence. Technology was continuously evolving, and humanity decayed. What would be the next step? Their latest perversion?

Another android encountered the fist of his cybernetic arm, and crumpled to the floor. For lack of a better term, it was dead. They were reaching closer to the top layers of the building, and word had gotten in that their backup had entered the premises. It wasn’t a perfect plan. It was far from a plan, but they had the forces… they had the ability to hurt, and destroy what needed to be destroyed. Only a small faction of the corporations, but it made a damn good start. 

Through her communication device, they heard destruction was in place even without their doing. One of the trained combatants, a right hand to the leader, she had found a nuclear explosive near the code lab, to ensure the information could not be obtained. Four minutes left until detonation. Four minutes to send a message to the assholes who fucked with him for the last time.

Done with stealth, he cracked a double-door in two with the sole of his boot.

Where he expected, maybe hoped, to find a room with suits… he found Steve. On his feet, in the middle of the room, partially veiled by the conference table, the palm of his hands heavenward, his eyes downcast. A glitch. An alternate reality. This was impossible.

He took a step forward, the wooden splinters of the door fracturing further underneath his boots, when he felt the pull of her hand. He tore his gaze away, to her. “He’s not real,” she murmured, her eyes wide in shock. She had seen it too. She had seen _him_. His eyes weren’t deceiving him.

“That’s not a hologram.”

“ _James_ , he died.”

“I need to know.” He squeezed her hand, and she inclined her head. She was always patient with him, sometimes more than he deserved. “Get the data. Research and locations. Help Hill.”

“Be careful.”

“Natalia. _I_ —”

“Less than four minutes, loverboy. Sweet talk me after,” she said with a simper, sprinting to her destination, her voice carrying through the emptied hallway.

As he entered the conference room, he caught the attention of someone who should not be alive. The groomed golden hair, parted to the fucking side. He was even clad in the uniform he had died in. The dark stealth suit that they were both very fond of. But now it was as good as new, no rips and tears, no bullet holes that ended his life. A perfect image of something that no longer existed. And yet…

He drew near him, but stopped dead in his tracks when that perfect image took on a defensive stance, the confusion palpable in his blue eyes. Even those were a mirror image. From afar they seemed unclouded. A summer sky. But he knew better. Luminous points of light, with a muted cloud of green that induced hope in anyone. He was unable to detect any flaws in the design. No visual cybernetic engineering. Then, perhaps…

“Steve?”

A tilt of the head, but no verbal response. Those luminous eyes narrowed in suspicion, and uncompromising words followed: “Winter Soldier.”

Before he had time to process that Steve did not recognize _him_ , before he had time to retort and deny the name… for it was not who he was, not anymore, Steve’s fist swung into his face. His head jerked back hard, and he staggered, his legs hitting the conference table, where he got a hold of himself. His heart sank into his stomach. There was the flaw he was looking for. The imperfection.

His memory.

Now he knew what it was like to be forgotten, to be on the other side, like she had been several times. It was an unsettling occurrence, one that hurt more than he could possibly bear, but then he had to try… like she always had with him. He raised his hands, his palms showing, indicating he meant no harm, uttering words and memories to trigger Steve’s mind… but it was to no avail, the brutal strikes kept coming, even when he blocked them. 

He was pushed into a titanium beam, the support of the building bending when Steve’s force and his cybernetic arm collided into it. A knee to the gut, and he curled as the pain was starting to grow intolerable, his words not changing anything. He needed a different approach. Clamping his arms around Steve’s, his shoulder and head were shoved against the beam again, and again, and again. The unsparing blows erupted into agony until both the beam and his arm came apart, collapsing on the carpeted floor, entrapping an unconscious Steve underneath it.

With some effort, he sat on his knees, about to crawl to check on Steve’s pulse when he heard her voice. “James?” He glanced her way, resting on his arm, aware that she could see he only had one.

The loss of his cybernetic one felt as unnatural as the day he had received it. 

She stood by the broken down door, the concern visible on her face, she hadn’t masked it this time, and he felt the need to reassure her, if only to appease her. A lie. A kindness. “I’m fine.”

“One minute…” She informed him of the practicalities when she stood next to him, but her words meant more than that, there was a question there, and she feared the answer. He could read her too.

Kneeling next to him, she reached for his hand, their fingers entwining for a second, and glimpsed between his cybernetic arm and Steve’s body. No more seconds to spare, they tried to lift the supportive beam, but it wouldn’t budge. Another attempt, and she erected herself with the third one, a loud grunt coming out when they failed.

He sighed in defeat, the loss of his limb more consequential than he could have imagined. “Did you get it? The data?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, go. I’m right behind you.”

“ _James_ …”

“Go! _Now_ ,” he said through gritted teeth, trying to keep his resolve. “I’m not losing you both.”

She didn’t say anything else after that, simply stood up and accepted his request. Wiped her eyes, then vanished from his sight. No more words. Their memories intact. It was unbearable, but the data could not disappear in all this misery. Something good had to come out of this, and that would be her.

He crawled towards Steve once more, the piercing pain in his shoulder charging through his body with every staggered move. His arm around the heavy beam, made of muscle and fat, mostly biological, but even with the enhanced physiology, he was unable to lift the beam off his long-lost companion. There were just some things that he could not restore. No matter how hard he tried. He had learned the hard way when he lost Steve. And, somehow, he managed to sustain, barely alive, entirely lost, a shadow of a man, until Natalia gave him a new home and pulled him into the light. His heartstrings forever intertwined with his lovers. With her, he was able to carry the weight of his suffering once more, gradually diminishing it, but he couldn’t do that this time. He couldn’t lose him again. If this was the end of the line, then he could live with that.

One final try. Just one more. One of their favorite nocturnal explorations in the chilly woodland of Germany, when their affection for one another wasn’t a silent reassurance anymore, but was worded into a vow. To love and hold. For better or worse. Richer or poorer. In sickness and health. Such a union was still unthinkable between men in their time, but they pledged their alliances that night. And he was a man of his word. Til death do them part, and beyond. 

“Do you remember?” He asked while Steve opened his eyes, the question seemed useless, but he had to try.

Steve groaned when he discerned the restriction of the beam. Together they managed to lift it as Steve collected himself. It seemed like the weight of knowledge reached his mind: consciousness transformed into data. An input of information processed and accumulated, before it could be coded and transmitted to understand the world around him.

“Do you remember now?”

“Bucky?”

“Yes. It’s me.” A sigh of relief while his arm flew around him. He would always try. “Your Bucky.”

In the blink of an eye, lightning crashed. Wings of smoldering golden and ruby-red flames, deep in tone like her long tresses, soared into the air until plumes of incandescent gasses engulfed the room. He held on to him tighter, never letting go. A candle burned all the way down. The last sliver of wick melted into the remnants of its wax.

And, then, he finally succumbed to sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Fin._ If you enjoyed this story, then I hope you'll let me know.  
>  Thank you for reading. Find me on [Tumblr](https://existentialmalaises.tumblr.com/).


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